


tumble and fall

by dustofwarfare



Series: begin the end [6]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Domestic, M/M, Sefikura week, begin the end 'verse, learning to boyfriend, wing!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 08:49:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustofwarfare/pseuds/dustofwarfare
Summary: “Cloud,” Sephiroth said – shouted, really, over the storm – “I require your assistance.”More grudging words had never been spoken.Showing pain to each other isn't something that comes easy, but luckily Sephiroth has a chipper little voice willing to be his conscience when necessary.Or: Sephiroth flies into a tree, and Aerith convinces him to call Cloud for some help.





	tumble and fall

**Author's Note:**

> For the Sefikura Week prompt #4: Wing  
> (I'm only like, two prompts behind now!)
> 
> This is set in my _Begin the End_ 'verse, but if you don't want to read like 90K to understand this not-very-long fic, it's basically "Sephiroth comes back post-DOC with amnesia, Cloud guards him under house arrest in Healen, they fall in love, Sephiroth's memories return and they have to work out their complicated love-hate relationship dynamic." 
> 
> Title from my legit fave song in the whole world, _Good Morning, Magpie_ by the band Murder by Death. It's so Sephiroth/Cloud it's not even funny.

 

In hindsight, perhaps flying in a thunderstorm was a relatively foolish idea.

But Sephiroth was on his way back to the small house in Kalm he shared with Cloud, and the storm came rather out of nowhere; so much so that he wondered, idly, if he were still courting the Planet’s rage for his crimes.

Regardless, the storm was quite intense and Sephiroth found himself dashed against a large tree with thick gnarled branches, which might have been – well, not _fine_ but manageable, except that the tumble into the tree had broken several of the delicate bones in his wing and also trapped it, somehow, between a few of the branches.

He could rip himself free – it would hurt, badly, but it wouldn’t be the first or last time he suffered pain thanks to the extra extremity. Masamune would appear as it always did, and he’d slice through the branches and fall to the ground. The wing would heal relatively quickly in a few days, as would any broken bone he sustained in the fall. Hopefully they were only sprains, which would be easily fixed up by a Cure materia.

Now then. He just needed his sword, and how strange…masamune should be in his hand by now, he had need of it and that was the only perquisite for it to appear.

_You could instead call Cloud on your PHS, which is in your pocket._

The thought was absurd. He was not calling Cloud. He was summoning his sword, and yes, calling Cloud would result in potentially less physical pain but the embarrassment of being seen trapped like a drowned owl in a tree –

\--- _you are supposed to be learning how to trust him,_ a chipper voice that was not his reminded him.

“If you are not going to assist me out of this situation,” Sephiroth said, out loud into the howling wind, “then perhaps you would do me a favor and be _quiet_.”

Sephiroth sighed; masamune was not there, meaning he was going to have to simply do this on his own and without his blade. He began sliding around, moving, gritting his teeth at the pain in his wing and his ankle. His right wrist too was very sore.

 _You’re being very stubborn,_ the voice said.

Sephiroth frowned. “I did not agree to your presence in my head, Aerith.”

 _Too bad,_ she said, cheerfully. _Just call Cloud. Ask for help for once, hmm? You don’t always have to hurt, Sephiroth._

“Being laughed at –” he started, then realized he sounded…ridiculous. He was in pain, his sword was being held hostage by a flower girl in the Lifestream – somehow – and he had a broken wing, a sprained ankle and his wrist was bent unnaturally, so, fine.

_Fine._

The second Sephiroth thought about calling Cloud, his PHS materialized in his hand.

“Cloud,” Sephiroth said – shouted, really, over the storm – “I require your assistance.”

More grudging words had never been spoken.

***

“Uh.” Cloud stood at the bottom of the tree, staring up at him. “Where’s your sword?”

Of course that was the first thing he asked. Of course.

“That is irrelevant at the moment,” Sephiroth informed him.

“So you don’t know,” Cloud supplied. Even though it was full dark out, now, and still raining – Sephiroth could see him smirking.

Perhaps he would simply live in this tree. It seemed nice enough.

“Cloud,” Sephiroth said, between his teeth. “Get it out of your system before you get up here.”

Cloud put his hands on his knees and laughed – for a good ten seconds, which might not seem like a lot but was, in reality. Especially when you had various broken bones and a wing fracture and were stuck in a tree during a thunderstorm, while your boyfriend laughed at you.  

Cloud did something with his sword so that it separated into a smaller, shorter blade and then proceeded to shimmy up the tree with admirable skill. When he saw Sephiroth, though, his half-smile faded and his face took on a worried cast. “Are you okay?”

“What about this,” Sephiroth bit out, “Makes you think I am anything of the sort?”

“I mean. Is – are you injured? Not counting your pride.”

Glowering, Sephiroth breathed out heavily and wiped a few strands of his sodden hair out of his face with his left hand. “My wing has several fractures, and my wrist and ankle are likely sprained.”

“Sephiroth!” Cloud glared at him, pushing his own damp hair back off his forehead. “Why didn’t you start with that?”

“So that I could make you feel badly for laughing at me, Cloud. Obviously.”

Cloud cracked a half smile. “You’re not even joking, are you.”

“Once a nemesis….”

Cloud huffed a soft laugh, but he went to work on the branches. “I didn’t bring any cure materia with me,” he said, once he’d managed to disentangle the tree’s limbs from Sephiroth’s. “You didn’t say you were hurt.”

“It’s of no consequence. If I’d been able to summon my sword, I would have simply cut myself free of this.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t just do it without the sword and suffer,” Cloud said, as if he wouldn’t have done the exact same thing. “I’m glad you didn’t, though. I’m glad you called. I’m sorry I laughed, it’s just…you always look so dignified.” He smiled as he went to work. “Even now you look like a fallen angel who got caught in a tree on his way down to hell.”

Sephiroth didn’t deign to respond to that.

***

Getting back to the house was painful, and without a potion or materia, all Sephiroth could do was endure the ride on Fenrir in silence.

It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d suffered this kind of pain. Sephiroth simply fell into it until he could distance himself, pulled his mind away and focused on anything else – the rain, the bright flash of lightning, the wind in his face as Cloud drove them home.

They entered the house and Cloud stripped him in the entranceway, carefully, as much as he could with Sephiroth’s wing still extended. “Let me get my Cure materia, can you – what? You’re glaring at me like you did when you were trying to kill me.”

“Because you’re treating me as if I’m an invalid, Cloud, I’m fine. Go get the materia.”

“Okay.” Cloud dashed away, and Sephiroth heard him thunder up the stairs, graceless in his hurry to _ease Sephiroth’s pain,_ and that was such a strange thing, really, given where they’d come from.

Cloud aimed the Cure materia as soon as he was in range, and Sephiroth’s eyes fluttered closed briefly as the pain in his ankle and his wrist faded, meaning they were definitely only a sprain. His wing was another story, but he could deal with that for the moment. At least he could walk.

“You should take a shower,” Cloud said, and nodded toward the kitchen. “You can go up, I’ll make you some tea.”

Sephiroth nodded and slowly made his way upstairs. He stoically endured the pain as his wing knocked against the wall and the staircase, then stood staring at the shower and tried to figure out if it was worth it or not. The shower was a stand-up contraption added to an old claw-foot tub; it wasn’t nearly tall enough for him, so he did a lot of bending around on a normal day when his wing wasn’t even manifested.

He could take a bath, he supposed, though the wing would hit against the edge of the tub. He’d have to make do with the shower. He really did hate it when his hair was a mess.

It took a long time, the twisting and the turning required aggravating every snapped bone in his wing Cloud was waiting for him by the time he managed to dry himself off and move into the bedroom. There was a mug of tea on the bedside table. Cloud watched him as he went to get dressed.

“Your wing is out,” he said.

“Observant as ever, I see,” Sephiroth murmured, pulling on a pair of pants and sitting on the edge of the bed so that there was ample room to stretch out his wing. He began to comb his hair, schooling his features into impassivity so he didn’t wince when the slight movements pulled his injured wing.  

“There’s – you’ve got some tree bits in there. I know how you hate that.” Cloud smiled a little and made his way over to kneel on the bed. He reached out for his wing to preen it, which Sephiroth usually liked quite a lot. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but Cloud was far too adept at reading his reactions, subtle though they were.

“This is hurting you,” Cloud said quietly. “That’s why you haven’t retracted your wing.”

“The materia,” Sephiroth explained. “It doesn’t cure fractures, hmm? The bones in my wings that are broken, my advanced healing will take care of it.”

“Oh. Do you want a potion, does that help?”

“It would help if you stop treating me like a broken baby bird,” Sephiroth snapped.

Cloud had immediately removed his hand from Sephiroth’s wing, and he gave him a long, silent stare.

Sephiroth sighed. “What?”

“You and I have spent a long time hurting each other.” Cloud’s expression was serious. “Showing pain to each other used to be a weakness, but Sephiroth…we’re not trying to kill each other anymore. You don’t have to hide the fact something hurts.”

“It’s…Cloud, I’m used to being in pain,” Sephiroth tried to explain, but that gave Cloud a different look that was far too close to pity for his comfort. His temper flared. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me.”

“I’m sorry that you think it’s normal to walk around hurt all the time, because someone hurt you when you couldn’t make them stop. Just like I’m sorry that our history is full of us causing each other pain. Okay?” He took the comb from Sephiroth and went around behind him, and starting pulling it through his hair.

Sephiroth had never mentioned it, but if Cloud had done this during one of their fights to the death…well. Cloud won them all, eventually. But maybe he might have done so earlier in their battles, if he’d resorted to hair-combing. Sephiroth closed his eyes at the tug, the relaxing pressure.

“It’s only that I’m used to dealing with the slight fractures. It’s a supernatural appendage –” he stopped when he heard Cloud snort. “Very mature of you. And it will heal, Cloud. I’ll be fine in a day or so.”

“Okay, great, but next time, could you tell me that first?”

Sephiroth’s mouth tightened, but Cloud tugged his hair hard enough to nearly pull a groan out of him – and not one of pain. “I suppose.”

“Wow. Sound more grudging about that.” Cloud went back to combing. Since Sephiroth was sitting on the bed, Cloud had to get on his knees behind him to drag the comb to the ends of his hair. “Your hair is taller than I am.”

“Some young, baby chocobos are taller than you are—”

“Sephiroth, do you want your hair combed or not?”

Sephiroth was quiet and let Cloud work. The house was slowly beginning to warm, the rain hitting against the roof a quiet, steady comfort. “I did call you,” he said, finally. “Instead of simply extricating myself.”

“Yeah, I’m…surprised by that, to be honest.” Cloud got up and came around to face him. He tapped the comb on his open palm.

Sephiroth might as well confess their mutual acquaintance’s involvement. Unwanted involvement. “I was….encouraged…by outside forces.”

“Ah.” Cloud smiled a little. “Let me guess. Aerith?”

He nodded. “Or else I’m developing a conscience, and it sounds a great deal like her.”

“Mine kinda sounds like Zack,” said Cloud. “But then I remember the stupid stuff Zack would tell me to do and I figure it can’t really be him, so. You could do worse.”

Sephiroth did smile at that, though he wasn’t sure about the whole conscience thing – it was Aerith, though perhaps she was _becoming_ his conscience…not that he would wish that on her, he’d already killed the poor girl. “You should shower. I’m fine, Cloud,” he insisted, when Cloud hesitated. “I’ll drink this tea and I shall have to sleep on my stomach, but you’re shivering and I am as well as I can be.”

Cloud gave a slight nod and headed to the bathroom. “I never really did like hurting you, you know. Even when I hated you.”

“I know.” Sephiroth, on other hand, liked hurting Cloud a great deal. It was probably why Cloud always won. His instinct was never to make Sephiroth suffer. That was not the kind of man he was.

 Maybe one day, it wouldn’t be the kind of man he was, either.

 _It will if I have anything to say about it,_ his conscience murmured, and Sephiroth rolled his eyes.

 

 


End file.
